


Cons and Personality go Hand in Hand

by momo0231



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, drug mentions in terms of use and selling, mentions of Stan/Jim but not enough to make it a tag i feel, written for stanuary because why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 21:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13257033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momo0231/pseuds/momo0231
Summary: 5 times Stan's cons "worked" and the 1 time they didn't.





	Cons and Personality go Hand in Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted on Tumblr. Written for Stanuary, week 1- Con (Scams, con man, traps, and bet) because I love this old man so much.
> 
> Might change the title later

1

“Stan do you really think this is a good idea?” Jimmy asked as the man in question handed him glasses and a ratty scarf to keep over his head. Stan grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye which told the biker everything he needed to know about this plan.

He swore Stan Pines was making his hair go white at an early age, but there was something about his enthusiasm that kept drawing Jimmy back. The world hadn’t beaten it out of him yet, but if he kept doing these stupid plans it just might.

Three hours later, Stan and Jimmy were running down alleyways, hands clasped so they don’t lose each other with the sounds of sirens behind them. “Stan what the _fuck_ did you do?” Jimmy whispered as laughter bubbled up Stan’s chest.

“Somethin’ stupid, but we’ve got some cash for the road if we can just get rid of the heat.” Stan motioned to the bag he was holding and the biker was stuck between dumping him on the spot or kissing him.

He chose the latter.

2

“Rico have I got a proposition for you!” Stan’s grin was wide even though his heart was beating a million miles a minute. Rico didn’t even turn to look at him at first, giving orders to some of the second in commands for a minute or so. Everything had to run smoothly or they’d have the cops after them again and if anyone dare brought the _policía_ on their door…

Stan stood, his smile plastered to his face. Pretend to be dumb, pretend you’re more then who you actually are, you need to get out of here before you kill someone-

“What is it Pines?” Rico had turned to look at him and Stan clapped his hands together.

He had to get out of here. “Rico! I got word that some pals of ours are lookin’ to expand out near Phoenix if you’re interested.” Stan thought for a moment to throw his arm around Rico’s shoulders but then thought better of it. He wasn’t the type of guy that appreciated that sort of touching gesture. This had to be all words.

Rico sighed, muttering something under his breath that Stan couldn’t quite pick up. “We don’t have enough resources to send-“

“An’ that’s where you’re wrong. You’ve got me!” Stan insisted, still smiling even though his cheeks hurt. If the other man was suspicious, he didn’t show it which was better than he was expecting. He just hoped he wanted him out of the equation. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Rico didn’t like him much.

Stan still owed him money, but no amount of debt was worth watching kids younger than himself die. He might not make a dent in Rico’s work force, but it was for his sanity more than anything.

“Sure, sure. Take what you need and send the cash my way when you make it. If you make enough, we’ll consider keeping you up there.” Rico turned around and Stan walked as quickly as he could to the bathroom. He felt like he was going to be sick, the anxiety settling in his stomach.

That night he took the drugs he had been given and threw in a nearby dumpster before getting the hell out of dodge. The next day another car started heading to Phoenix.

3

He had always thought he was going to die in obscurity. Somewhere he wouldn’t be found for days and he’d be to bloated to be recognized. And yet here he was, attending his own funeral pretending to be his brother he hasn’t seen in 10 years and is the cause of his… Disappearance.

Ford would have gone to his funeral right? That wasn’t a far stretch. Sure he hadn’t liked him all that much but they were family. Stan would have gone to Ford’s funeral if he died (because he hadn’t died, he was going to get him back). But he wasn’t Stan anymore, he couldn’t think like him. He was supposed to think like Ford.

Stan honestly didn’t know if Ford would have gone to his funeral.

He signed, messing his hair up, having had to cut his hair to match his brother’s before he left. Looking into the mirror he figured he would be able to fool people like this. He sort of missed the mullet though.

“Stanford? Are ya in there?” A voice said softly with a couple of knocks to the door. Her voice almost made Stan cry from how long it’s been since he heard it. “Yes Ma, I’ll be right out.” If he could get through this day, he’d be fine.

The service felt weird to be a part of. He felt like he wasn’t supposed to be here, like it was all a terrible dream. The black ribbon that was pinned to his lapel reminded him that it wasn’t though.  Stan mindlessly said the prayers and excused himself from talking about… himself when the time came. His father didn’t either, not that he was expecting him to. Ma did though.

Ma always believed in him.

Stan covered his face as tears started to roll down his cheeks. This service should be for Ford, Stan was still here and he killed his brother over a dumb book!

“Stanford, it’s okay.” Ma was back and she gently guided his head to her shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

He left after the third day of _Shiva_ and didn’t come back the next year to see the tombstone.

4

Stan hadn’t made a serious bet in ages. Sure, he made ones with loopholes or ones he wouldn’t keep but this was actually exciting. There was stake to it, even if the stake was wearing a shirt all summer or letting Mabel run the shack.

He didn’t think she actually would once she knew what actually went into running it and keeping Wendy and Soos on track.

The twins were bringing out a lot of things, a lot of sides he had never been expecting to see again. He hadn’t had a fun bet like this in years, hadn’t actually felt excited for even longer. Mabel had three days to make more money than him on a vacation and he was giving her a 30% chance of winning. He sped up, passing some cars and starting to hit a speed that most people were uncomfortable with.

What’s the worst that could happen? Him actually giving up the Mystery Shack to some twelve year old? He grinned and rolled down his window, letting the air hit him as he drove down the highway.

He almost felt young again.

5

Stan had to hand it to Ford; he knew why he kept the trench coat on now. It made him feel cool. He grinned at his brother who looked like he was going to be sick. “Aw, come on Ford. After this ya won’t even have me put up a fight when ya want your house back.”

“Stanley-“ Ford started before cutting himself off. There was a lot they could say to each other right now, but not enough time to actually do it. Stan had spent years pretending he was Ford: to his parents, the college that funded those grants, and to the town. The longest con, and right now it was all leading to this. The end of the world, or saving it.

“Before whatever happens, I just wanna say… I’m sorry.” It didn’t hurt quite as much as when Mabel made him say it. “I’m sorry I told you ya weren’t family. You’re my brother an’ I love you. No matter how pissed off I am at ya, you’re still my family doofus.”

He heard Ford start to say something, but they both paused as Bill’s voice got closer.

Show time.

+1

“Stanley do you need help?” Ford stopped writing in his journal. Stan was leaning against the edge of the boat, face red from exhaustion. He had been getting tired more and more as the months wore on, a grimace of pain on his face when he moved his legs a certain way.

“I’m fine, just a little stiff in the morning.” Stan snickered, causing Ford to roll his eyes as he put his journal away.

Going into town like they were planning on doing might prove to be a little tough now, but he knew Stan wasn’t going to stop. “You’ve been having trouble walking for a couple weeks now. Maybe we can get you something to help?” Ford let Stan put weight on him as they walked off the boat.

His brother might put up a strong face, but Ford didn’t want him to have to do that anymore. He wanted to help him.

He huffed, looking away from Ford. “I’m not an invalid, Ford. I don’t need things like wheelchairs.”

“I’m not saying a wheelchair. “ Not yet anyway, “maybe a cane, just so you have something when I’m not there.” Ford didn’t look at Stan knowing he would put up some façade if he did. He wanted him to actually think about it and think about what he needed.

“Think of it as a longer reach to hit people.”

“Sold.”


End file.
